


Winter Winds

by Ahardboiledegg



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cute, Developing Relationship, F/M, this is totally fluff, whouffle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 17:30:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13769037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahardboiledegg/pseuds/Ahardboiledegg
Summary: It is easier to get stuck in the winter than Clara had originally imagined. It wasn't like they had a trans-dimensional mode of transportation and teleportation or anything, right? That'd be silly.





	Winter Winds

Clara knew she shouldn’t have trusted him, not this time. He said they were going to one of the best beaches in the universe—sure! Trust the madman in a snogbox to take you to an amazing beach, and trust him to get you two trapped in some sort of modern ice age. _Classic._

They were stuck in London, 3027, and global warming had wrapped around the opposite way it seemed; instead of the planet getting progressively hotter because of methane, there was some strange, alien chemical in the air that made it colder. A lot colder, apparently. But that was all to come, nothing seemed out of sorts past that, except for their sharp landing, which had sent the TARDIS into a recovery mode, all heat and power turning down low or even off which made it pretty much unbearable to be in the machine, especially in a bathing suit.

“Sleep is the best medicine, even for machines.” The Doctor had told her, and she agreed, though it was a bit iffy from the standpoint that, well, machines don’t really sleep (and the TARDIS isn’t really a machine, he soon insisted), they just power down for a bit, and then power back up, but— _that’s not the point._ The point was that they were stuck, freezing, and barely clothed, though from the sound of it, the winds outside didn’t seem much better as opposed to the cold metal under Clara’s bare feet.

“Isn’t there some sort of future space-hotel we could go to for tonight? Or a hostel, or something? It’s freezing in here, and I will not be thrilled to have to mark down _hypothermia, found in a stupid police box_ as my cause of death.”

Clara was sure that if the TARDIS had been paying more attention, or wasn’t in sleep mode, that she would have let out a sharp buzz or beep in retaliation, but all she got back was a click of the tongue from the Doctor, who put a hand on the console as if he was consoling the sleeping time machine.

“I’m sure there is, but I think you’d rather go out in something warmer? Last I checked it was almost negative 10 degrees out there, and with winds? Who knows.” He was right, they both knew that, and as time had passed, Clara could feel the cooling air around her, causing her to shift from foot to foot, as if to keep warm.

“Right. I’ll, uh, be right back, then.” She decided quickly, and she turned to find her room in the maze of halls, bare feet making gentle noise on the floor. Clara made quick work of finding her room and getting into something more suitable for the time and the weather—the fashion of the time couldn’t have changed that much, could it? —and soon she was back in the console room, now clad in layers of sweaters and a jacket, heavy boots on her feet. When she was gone, the Doctor had taken the time to grab a jacket himself, buttoned up the front to keep himself warm.

“Shall we?” He asked with a crooked grin, a hand held out to the smaller woman, and she couldn’t help but grin herself, even if just a bit. She could tell he was trying to make the best of the situation, even if it was ice cold in and out, and they would be stuck for who knows how long. Oh wait, he would totally know. Duh.

“Yeah, but how long are we going to be stuck here? I get it’s a time machine and all, but I still wouldn’t like to live my whole life out in the freezing future while we wait for this box to fix up.” She quipped, arms crossed.

The Doctor dropped his hand and looked back to the console, shifting around it and looking at screens, buttons hit and switches flipped. “Maybe…three days? Two? No longer than a week, so there’s no need to worry about growing old in the ice age, Clara.” The Doctor spun back around and put his hands up with a grin. “But while we’re here, why not see some stuff? There’s an art instillation from Gregory Boots in a museum nearby, and I’m sure hotels have openings somewhere for two—we can make the most of this.” He promised to her, his hand held out once again. She was staring to shiver from the cold and decided mentally that some tea in a hotel somewhere and art may be better than practically standing in a mechanical meat locker.

Clara took his hand with a small sigh and a smile that followed. “Alright, lead the way, chin-boy.” She teased him, and the older took it in stride, face breaking out into a grin as he pulled her toward the door and into the cold.

Wind whipped around them and brushed up snow, making it just a bit hard to see in the moment, but with her hand in the Doctor’s, she knew they would end up at least alright. _At least_. She squeezed his hand and pulled herself closer to him, not exactly fond of the idea of getting lost in the snow, and as she took a quick look around, she saw that they found themselves on a side street in London, or, uh, Future London. The streetlamps gave a warm glow to the area which they were parked, but the wind and snow chilled the small woman to the bone.

The Doctor had turned and was locking up the TARDIS, because apparently, even in Future London, _nobody_ could be trusted with a sleeping time machine, _especially_ one with a bit of an attitude. He turned to face his companion and paused, looking her over. The snow left white speckles in her dark hair, and her warm brown eyes locked with his, causing the time lord to smile. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, as was the tip of her nose and the tops of her ears, and for some reason, that just enhanced the overall cuteness of her look. A too small girl in some too big sweaters and jackets, flushed and smiling—that was enough to take _anybody_ down, even one old time traveling alien called The Doctor.

She noticed rather quickly, though, that he was staring at her, more specifically her face, and her eyebrows furrowed. “What is it? Is there something on my face—Is my nose running?” Her face had grown a bit numb from the cold, so she believed that wasn’t exactly out of the question, and the idea of having snot all over her face was pretty embarrassing to boot. A hand came up to cover her nose and she reached into her pockets, searching for a tissue as the Doctor stopped her, grabbing for her hands.

“No! No, it’s not that, don’t worry, your nose is perfectly fine.” He said quickly, eyes flickering around as he tried to work out where they were in London. At the same time, he tried to not go back to staring at Clara; hopefully the flush on his cheeks from the cold also hid the flush on his cheeks from the mild bit of embarrassment he had caused himself.

“Let’s just get you inside before you turn into a Clara-popsicle—it would be a lot less fun to travel with if you were like that.” The Doctor joked, and he laced their fingers together, setting out away from the TARDIS and deeper into the city, hoping to find a hotel or something of the sort soon enough. Clara followed easily enough, looking around and watching as the two of them left footprints in the newly fallen snow; one set with long, determined strides and the other shorter and faster, though equally as determined steps.

The next few minutes of searching for a warm and open building felt like an eternity to the small human, and her shivering picked up again, causing the Doctor to squeeze her hand with a mildly concerned look. “Come on, we’re almost there. I saw a café up ahead, there’s a sign over there.” He told her, pointing out with his free hand. “We’ll get some tea in you, eh?” He grinned, and Clara nodded with a vocal shiver. “Good—I could have _sworn_ I was about to freeze to death out here with you!” She insisted, and the Doctor gave a short laugh, shaking his head. “Actually, that’d take a few more hours, and you know I wouldn’t let you be out here for—oh, _wait_!” In the middle of his little spiel, Clara had taken off toward the café, doing a sort of quick run-shuffle toward the promised warmth of the building. She really was a determined girl, huh?

The Doctor did his own run-shuffle toward the café as well, though his was a lot less graceful than Clara’s, and he had almost caught up to her too, when she hit a patch of ice. A very undignified squeal left Clara as her arms flew up in the air to try and balance herself, and the Doctor set his run-shuffle into overdrive to scoot his way over to her. He was a few moments too late, though, because his companion had fallen backwards and landed right on her butt in the snow, now properly covered in the white stuff. The Doctor had to work rather hard to keep his laughing in check, because Clara did not look pleased, _no_ , not in the slightest.

“Come here, let me help you—! “ The Doctor insisted on helping her up, and being the oh-so-very-smart-time-lord that he is, he never shifted away from the ice that Clara had slipped on, and he soon found himself on the ground as well, also properly dusted in snow. Now that they were both on the ground, both wet and snowy, he laughed and looked over to Clara, who tried her hardest to keep a straight face before cracking up as well. She grabbed a handful of snow and tossed it at the Time Lord, who sputtered as it caught him in the face, and he did the same back, earning another laugh and squeal from the small human.

She shook the snow from her hair and the Doctor found himself entranced by Clara—the way her soft hair fluffed around her face and how her light pink lips drew up in a smile, eyes crinkling as she laughed. How her small hands, now also flushed from the cold on the snow, sat on her knees as she tried to push herself up, only to plop back down into the icy ground. Her request pulled him from his thoughts, though.

“Help me up, then, since we’re both covered in snow now.” She teased him, grabbing for his hands to help steady her on her way up. He complied and smiled as she stood, and held her hands as he also moved to stand.

The two of them slipped and slid as the Doctor slowly stood up, and they both squeaked and laughed, grabbing onto each other for what seemed like dear life, hoping not to end up in the snow once more. Clara found herself being clung to by the Doctor, and she shared the same amount of grabbing—her arms firmly around his middle, and his hands grabbing around her shoulders, pulling the small woman flush to his chest. She took in a few deep breaths of the cool, winter air, and the sound of his hearts beating so quick from all the effort it had taken them to get up made her grin. The tiny human stole a peek up at the Doctor and was a bit surprised to see him looking right back down at her. They locked eyes for a moment, and Clara would later swear that she just zoned out, but she was really caught up in how pretty his eyes were. Well, all of him was pretty, but he needn’t know that. His ego was big enough already, and Clara wasn’t sure how much more she could take. Joking aside, she felt like she could see back to when her first echo had met him, all those centuries ago. She could see all of time itself, past present and future, in those surprised looking eyes.

The Doctor had no excuse, though; he was just pink as he looked down at the adorable human he was practically clinging to; all with her cute button nose and beautiful eyes, her cupid’s bow lips and her delicate smile--

The Time Lord could only muster up a slightly embarrassed smile and he patted her shoulders. “Now that we’re on solid ground, do you want to go inside? Maybe dry ourselves off a bit?” He gave a gentle laugh as the small woman rolled her eyes and disconnected herself from the now equally as cold and shivering Doctor.

“Maybe, if we can even get to the doors on all this ice.” She quipped back, moving to lace her fingers into his and slowly pull him along, taking steady and flat steps until they reached the curb of the street, and stepping up to where someone had put salt down, prohibiting the formation of ice. “An’ after holding me like that, I think you owe me a cup ’a tea, mister.” Clara shot him a cheeky grin and headed for the door, leaving a mildly flustered and stuttering Doctor behind her.

“I could say the same for you, Clara Oswald!” He shot back, taking quicker steps to catch up with her. Boy, for such a short girl she could really move. She was at the door and laughing at him as he took big, wobbly steps off the ice and onto the sidewalk.

“How about I order, and we can figure out the money stuff after—we don’t even know if they still use the same _currency_ as my time does.” She said, still smiling from before. He looked so cute and innocent, all the boyish charm really gets to her. His hair was speckled with snow and all pushed around, though his shaking and wet hands tried to force it back down, and his cheeks and nose were both pink from the snow as well, but his eyes continued their bright shining. Damnit, she was in too deep.

“Then it’s a done deal.” The Doctor said, opening the door with a theatrical flourish. “After you, Clara.” He continued with a grin to rival the one that decorated her lips prior, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes again.

  
“Oh, thank you so much, my good sir, really!” She gave a dramatic curtsey and made her way into the café, allowing one Time Lord, who looked a lot like a damp, lovestruck teenager, to follow her in. (Who wouldn’t look like a lovestruck teenager with such a cute little woman as their companion and best friend, though?)

*

The café was a small one, a bar to their right as they walked in, and tables lining the walls. There was a bar at the window to sit and eat, and by each table was a few coat hooks. The Doctor busied himself with looking around the small shop, picking up and inspecting a lot of the little things they had on display—types of tea, mugs, incense and candles. They had teacups out in cases for purchase as well, and the older man was positively cooing over them.

Clara, on the other hand, had made her way to the counter and ordered for the two of them, two black teas, one with milk and sugar, and one with just sugar. She soon found out that the money she had on her still worked, and paid for the two teas, making her way to a small table for the two of them to share. It took the Doctor a few moments to realize that Clara had gotten them tea, and he made his way, bounding over to the table with a smile.

Once he got there, Clara was in the middle of getting her jacket off, but the zipper had gotten stuck in the fabric of her scarf, making her furrow her brows in concentration. The Doctor rose one of his (non-existent) brows and shuffled over to look, tilting his head.

“It’s stuck.” She explained shortly, and that earned a little ah from the other. “Let me try.” He insisted, and she felt her hands being swatted away by his own, and soon after that, the Doctor was leaning in close, eyebrows furrowed to look at and try and disconnect her scarf from her jacket zipper without ruining it, which was very quickly getting out of the realm of possibilities.

Clara crinkled her nose as she watched the Doctor’s fingers shift and pull at her scarf and the tab of the zipper, and she sighed once she realized that her scarf may be done for. She would just keep her jacket and scarf on, too, if it weren’t for the fact that she was practically soaked through, and drinking a cup of tea while wet and cold wasn’t on her to-do list for the day. Well, _none of this_ was on her to-do list for the day, but she never really could have a set plan with the Doctor.

“Might want to just try and cut it off at this point, huh? Might not be worth it.” Clara murmured, shifting to loop the scarf off her body as best as she could, bundling up the damp fabric in her own hands as the Doctor continued to fiddle and tug at the end that was stuck. Though, as she guessed, he insisted to keep trying.

“You like this scarf—I think I can get it, ‘m _almost_ there, I’m sure of it.” He grinned as he wiggled and jerked at the fabric, making a little triumphant sound in the back of his throat as he was finally, finally, able to gently yank the scarf free, and pull down the zipper of Clara’s jacket. He held up the end to show her, and was suddenly face to face with her. Again. And, well, it was a lot less sudden than he had thought; they had been close the whole time, but he had been engrossed with the idea of getting the scarf out of the zipper. That’ll brighten her day up, eh?

“Aw, look’it you, clever boy.” Clara laughed and gently took the other end of the scarf from him, making quick work to lean up and press a kiss to the cool skin of his forehead. “Thank you.” She murmured with a grin, before shedding her coat and putting her scarf down as well, just about ready to absolutely dive into the warmth of the cup of tea waiting for her.

The Doctor stood there for a moment, eyebrows reaching his hairline as he slowly took off his own jacket and hung it on the back of his seat. Maybe, for once in this regeneration, he was going to figure this romance thing out. _Maybe_. Well, maybe _not_ , but also maybe _yes_. Maybe Clara _did_ fancy him, and he wasn’t just garbage at reading human’s signals.

While he had this strange, internal conversation with himself, Clara was sipping her tea, watching him slowly sit down with furrowed brows. He considered the warm liquid in his mug and scanned it with his sonic quick, just to check, but Clara’s short laugh and eye-roll told him that it was just regular tea. Had to be, right? _Right_. _Of course_.

Clara had already emptied half of her cup when the Doctor finally deemed his own mug safe to drink from, and he watched as the small human took in the room. It looked like it could have been yanked out of Brooklyn in the late 90’s; the 1990’s, of course, and the bits of nostalgia made her pretty pink lips curl up into a smile. The Doctor found himself staring once again, though this time, with Clara’s attention diverted otherwise, he allowed himself this. She had brushed her hair back over her shoulders, stray strands tickling the pale skin of her throat as she shifted and turned, that smile never leaving her lips.

“Doctor--.” She started, turning back to cross her legs and she grinned, watching the brunet’s cheeks go pink. He was caught in the act, _damnit_. She was onto him! “What is it this time, I don’t have anything on my face, so what?”

“Well, _ah_ , this time you do. Have something on your face, I mean.” Well, that caught her off guard, and she grabbed at the napkins in the little dispenser on the table, dabbing and rubbing at various parts of her face to attempt to get whatever it was off.

“Out with it, what is it? Where is it?” She asked quickly, hoping it wasn’t snot or anything gross, that’d be embarrassing.

“Oh, just these beautiful, warm brown eyes, a perfect pink smile, the most adorable button nose—the works, really.” He listed off, as if he was reading from a recipe. Wow, that really caught her off guard, and she could feel her cheeks going red in embarrassment.

“Are you _flirting with me_?” She asked quietly, pointedly, and the Doctor couldn’t help but give a sheepish grin, a quick flash of panic in his eyes as he realized, _oh no_ , he might have been wrong, she totally did not fancy him, that they were just proper mates, as an old friend of his used to say.

Clara was quick to notice the bit of worry and panic, and her two tiny hands came to grab at one of his, her eyebrows raised in amusement, and a brand-new smile, bright as ever, adorned her flushed cheeks. “Hey, whoa, don’t worry with the eyes, _keep going_. I don’t get this too often, especially from a cute, centuries old alien.”

Oh, now _she_ was flirting with _him_. _**Oh**_.

“Is this going to be a little game, Miss Oswald?” The Time Lord asked with a shy grin, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes as his hand shifted so they were palm-to-palm.

“Only if you’d like it to be, Doctor.” She replied, tilting her chin up a bit. She did fancy him, it was true, and she was sure he knew with every touch, playful slap, cheek-kiss and hug. He couldn’t be that daft, could he? Well, _apparently_.

“And if I’d like it to progress out of a game? Something a bit more, well…. stable?” He didn’t want to say permanent. Nothing was ever like that with him, and she knew that. He is a Time Lord, and they don’t die, well, not as easily as humans do, and the same with the aging thing. She was a human, she had one life to give, and he had, well…She could promise him forever, but he could not do the same.

“I think I might like that.” She decided after a moment of silence, her small, cheeky grin growing huge, pink cheeks flushing red. Of course she would, and she would always admit, she was in for the long-haul.

“I can’t give you forever, you know.” He said lowly, a sort of sadness in his eyes, and she nodded, unable to let that smile leave her face, even as he insisted upon the idea of an end. What type of beginning is this, already talking about endings?

“Maybe I don’t want forever. I can’t have it, nobody can.” She countered, giving his hand a squeeze. “What if I just want… _now_?”

It was his turn to smile.

“Clara Oswald, it’s all yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I have written in years, probably, so please feel free to send me constructive criticism and the like.  
> This story was originally inspired by the song Winter Winds by Mumford and Sons, and I have a plan to write more fics that are based on their songs, and other artist's songs too. They probably won't all be Clara/Eleven, so be on the look out for those if you enjoyed this!  
> Cheers!


End file.
